cords of actual facts。 Holding them in hand I have examined the places that they describe； and therefore to this I can testify。 Those men and women lived； they did the things that are recorded； or most of them； and for the reasons that remain to us。 Of course certain circumstances have been added； namely those which deal with the supernatural。
The entries in my diary for the first five days of that disastrous voyage are brief and emphatic。
20th： At sea。 Bad weather。 21st： Gale。 22nd： Worse gale。 23rd： Worse gale still。 Lay to。 24th： Tried to go about four o’clock。 Strained the ship so much that we had to lay to again。
Indeed； with a single exception； that of a voyage I made many years later in the P。 & O。 Macedonia； the weather was the most terrible that I have ever experienced at sea。 Moreover； in our small vessel there is no doubt that we were in some peril of foundering。 The terrific seas swept her continually； and； in order to keep the hundreds of ponies alive。 it was necessary that the hatches should remain open； since otherwise they would have been stifled。 Had any accident occurred to bring the ship broadside on； such as the breaking of the steering gear； it would seem that we must have filled and sunk at once。 As it was we were greatly knocked about； and a good many of the poor ponies died from the cold of the water that washed over them。
At last the weather moderated； and about ten A。M。 on the 25th we arrived off Thurso in a dead calm。 Here we should have stayed because of the fog； but this the captain could not do； as owing to the prolongation of the voyage the ponies were starving。 So he took the risk and pushed on。 About 11：30 I was on deck； when suddenly the dense mist seemed to roll up in front of us； like the drop…scene at a theatre； and there appeared immediately ahead black cliffs and all about us rocks on which the breakers broke and the water boiled； as it can do after a great gale in the Pentland Firth when the tide is running I know not how many knots an hour。 There was a cry： the engines were reversed； but the current and that terrible tide caught the Copeland and dragged her forward。 Then came the sickening sensation that will be familiar to anyone who has been aboard a vessel when she struck upon rocks。 Scrape； quiver！ — scrape； quiver！ and we were fast。 Or rather our forepart was fast； for the stern still floated in deep water。
Almost immediately the firemen rushed up from the engine…room； which had begun to flood； though I suppose that the water did not reach the boilers at first or they would have exploded。
Orders were given to get out the boats； and it was attempted with the strangest results。 My belief is that those boats had never been in the water since the day the ship was built。 Some of them went down by the stern with their bows hanging in the air； some of them went down by the bows with their stern hanging in the air； or would not move。 Also in certain instances the plugs could not be found。 Not one of them was got into the water： at any rate at that time。
Understanding that the position was serious I went to my cabin； packed what things I could； then called the steward and made him bring me a bottle of beer； as I did not know when I should get another。 He； such is the force of habit； wanted me to sign a chit for the same； but I declined。 Whilst I was drinking the beer I felt the vessel slip back several feet； it was a most unpleasant sensation； one moreover that suggested to me that I might be better on deck。 Thither I went； to find my fellow passengers gathered in an anxious group staring at each other。 Presently I observed a large boat appear from the island and lie to at a good distance from the ship； which she did not seem to dare to approach because of the surrounding rocks。
We consulted。 It was evident that we should never get off in our own boats； so this one from the island seemed our only chance。 I went to the captain on the bridge and asked if we might hail it。
“Aye； Mr。 Haggard；” answered the distracted man； “do anything you can to save your lives。”
Then I understood how imminent was our peril。 I returned and hailed。
“Can you take us off？”
My voice being very powerful I managed to make the boatmen hear me。 They shouted back that they dared not approach the ship。
“Have a try；” I suggested； and in the end those brave fellows did try and succeeded； knowing the tide and the current and where each rock was hidden beneath the surface。 They got aboard us； somewhere forward； or one of them did。 Presently he came running aft； a big blue…eyed man whose great beard seemed to bristle with terror。
“For God’s sake get out of this；” he roared in his strange dialect； “ye’ve five feet of water in your hold and sixty fathom under your stern！ Ye’ll slip off the rock and sink！”
We did not need a second invitation； but when we were all； or almost all of us in the boat； it was suddenly remembered that an Icelandic woman occupied one of the cabins。 She had entered that cabin at Rejkjavik； and never having been seen since； was not unnaturally overlooked。 Well； she was fetched； and came quite posed and smiling down the ladder。 The poor soul was not in the least aware that anything out of the way had happened and imagined that this was the proper way to leave the ship。
Then came another anxious time； for the question was whether we could avoid a certain rock over which the surf was boiling。 Providentially those skilled men did avoid it； and soon we stood upon the rocky shores of Stroma； which personally I thought a very pleasant place。 Had we overset there was no chance that we could have lived a minute in that racing； seething tide。
By this time people on the island had seen what was happening and were running towards us。 The first to arrive was a gentleman in a rusty black coat and a tall hat； a schoolmaster I believe。 Somehow he had learned my identity； or perhaps he recognised me from a photograph。 At any rate he came up； bowed politely； took off the tall hat with a flourish； and said； in the best Scotch； “The author of ‘She’ I believe？ I am verra glad to meet you。”
For eight or ten hours we sat upon that rock。 The tide which was high or ebbing when we struck went down； the Copeland broke her back； of a sudden under the fearful strain of her wire rigging her mast turned grey because of the splinters driven outward by the pressure。 Rescuers got aboard of her and saved many of the ponies； though many more were drowned； including poor Hecla； which I had bought upon the slopes of that volcano。 Others were thrown or swam out of the hold and maimed。 One of the saddest things I remember in connection with this shipwreck was the sight of a poor animal with a swinging leg； standing upon a point of rock until the tide rose and drowned it。 Many of these ponies swam ashore — being Icelanders they were accustomed to the water — and probably they； or rather their descendants； now populate the Orkneys。 What would have happened to us if our cargo on this occasion had been emigrants instead of ponies I cannot say。 Doubtless there must have been a terrible panic and much loss of life。 As it was our escape may be accounted a marvel。 A peak of rock perated our bottom and by that peak we hung； as the fisherman had said； with sixty fathom of deep water under our stern。 When I was drinking the beer； and felt the ship slip； it was just a question whether she would vanish entirely or be held。 In fact； she was held owing to one of her principals； if that is the term； catching on the point of rock。
As it chanced our adventures were not quite finished。 Late in the afternoon； after some difficulty； we hired a boat to take us to the mainland。 By this time the tide had risen again； and our course lay under the stern of the wrecked Copeland。 Ross was steering the boat since no one else was available。 We passed under the steamer’s stern and noticed that she was lifting very much on the ining tide。 Just as we had cleared it a man appeared upon the deck； screaming to be taken off。 We discovered afterwards that he was some petty officer who in his fear had broken into the spirit room and been overwhelmed with drink。 A swift decision must be taken。 It was not expected that the Copeland would hang upon her rock through another tide。 Must he be saved or must he be left？ We made up our minds in the sense that most Englishmen would do。 Going about； we retraced our way under that perilous stern and came to the panion ladder。 There stood the man； and while we lay under the vast bulk of the lifting ship； he began to uncoil an endless rope； which he explained to us from above； with a drunken amiability； it was his duty to salve。
The tide boiled by us； the hull of the Copeland lifted and settled； lifted and settled； making a surge of water about us。 We wondered from moment to moment whether she would not e off the point that held her； and crush us into the deep。 The drunken brute above continued to uncoil his eternal rope； which after all proved to be fastened to something at its other end。 At length we could bear it no more。 I and； I think； others rose and addressed that second mate； or whatever he may have been； in language which I hope will not be recorded in another place。 We told him that either he might e down into the boat； or that he might stop where he was and drown。 Then a glimmer of intelligence awoke in his troubled brain。 He descended； and we rowed him ashore。
Once more we started under the stern of the Copeland； and in due course gained the mainland after a rough passage in an open boat。 From wherever we landed we travelled in carts to Wick； where we slept at some inn。 I remember that I did not sleep very well。 During the shipwreck and its imminent dangers my nerves were not stirred； but afterwards of a sudden they gave out。 I realised that I had been very near to death； also all that word means。 For some days I did not recover my balance。
Chapter 13 “ERIC BRIGHTEYES” AND “NADA THE LILY”
“Eric Brighteyes” — Dedicated to the Empress Frederick — Correspondence with her — Lang’s letters about Eric — Letters from R。 L。 S。 — Poem by him — “Beatrice” — Marie Corelli — Lady Florence Dixie — Cordy Jeaffreson again — Criticism of “Beatrice” — “Nada the Lily” — “Epic of a dying people” — Last letters from Sir Theophilus Shepstone — Dedication of “Nada” to him — Vale； Sompseu； Vale — Savile Club — Sir Ian Hamilton — His experiences at Majuba — Rudyard Kipling — Sir Henry Thompson — Michael Fairless at Bungay — Sir E。 W。 Budge — His anecdotes。
I began to write “Eric Brighteyes；” the saga which was the result of my visit to Iceland； on August 29； 1888； as the manuscript shows； and I finished it on Christmas Day； 1888。 It was dedicated to the late Empress Frederick； under the circumstances which are shown in the following correspondence。
My brother William wrote to me from the British embassy at Athens； where I think he was First Secretary at the time； on October 30； 1889：
It may interest you to hear that the Empress Frederick told me the other night that the last pleasure that her husband had on earth was reading your books； which he continued to do through his last days； and that he used to express the hope that he might live to make your acquaintance。 I replied that I knew